


Lure of the Deep

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an alien sea pod follows him home, John Sheppard wonders if he's in over his head. When he meets Rodney McKay, he knows he's in too deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lure of the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Mcshep Match 2010. I don't even want to think about what it would have been like to meet this challenge without the editing help, advice and support of mischief5 and djaddict. It's a far, far better story because of them.

"He's here again, sir. It's that same fellow who shows up every week without an appointment. Perhaps you should see him this time, Dr. McKay. For all that he looks like he's been sleeping on a park bench with a newspaper over his head, he's quite articulate."

Rodney McKay narrowed his eyes at his secretary. Peter Grodin was scarily capable even if he did have the most horrendous taste in trousers. Rodney often wondered if it was some cosmic balance at work. It was as if extreme efficiency and an uncanny ability to anticipate Rodney's business needs only came with horn-rimmed glasses and high-waisted pants. Even Grodin's British accent dripped proficiency over the phone. So, if Peter thought the guy was worth listening to—

"Why does he keep coming back?" Rodney asked. "You're not feeding him like a stray are you?"

"He— he looked hungry." Peter flushed, then held his head high, refusing to look guilty. He couldn't help it. There was just something about John Sheppard that made Peter want to sit him down and feed him a cream tea until he lost some of the haunted look in his eyes. It certainly wouldn't be a rogue mothering instinct. He'd never live that down.

Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. There were a number of things stressing him out today but the crackpot in the next room waiting to see him wasn't actually one of them. If anything, 'Mr. Loonytoons' was a welcome distraction. "Never mind. Moving on. Well, what does he want funding for this time?"

"I believe Mr. Sheppard referred to it as Depth Angling today." Grodin glanced at his clipboard. "And the week before as Trench Treasure and the week before that as The Lure of the Deep. Do you want me to get rid of him?"

Rodney paused. "No. Maybe it's time I saw him. God knows, nothing else is going right today. Give me a few minutes then bring him in and bring coffee for both of us. And some of those chocolate muffins if you've got them, and I know you do, Peter."

It was true. Peter never failed to stop by the local coffee shop every morning. Last month, a new gentleman had been brought in as co-owner to help with the growing business. He was tall, exotic, and he'd caught Peter's eye immediately. It had been a bit embarrassing, almost walking into the door like that, but to be fair, Peter had been distracted. Just when he'd thought he'd figured out how the man's dreads were tied back, he'd seen the tattoo. He'd been trying to get a better look and narrowly missed smashing his nose against the door's glass.

So far, Mr. Dex hadn't seemed to notice to him at all but Peter wasn't giving up. Meanwhile, he had a desk full of baked goods and a well caffeinated boss. Even if he never got a date, things were looking up for a raise.

~~~

Five minutes later, Rodney McKay watched Mr. John Sheppard glide into his office and spread himself into the waiting chair. There was no other word for it.

If Rodney had expected this particular client to be nervous or grateful at finally being granted an interview, in person, with _The_ Dr. Rodney McKay, he'd have been horribly wrong. The man lounged in the chair as if he had all day with a bonus nap planned for the afternoon.

"My god. Are your hips even attached to your backbone? No. Wait. Forget I said that." Rodney hesitated. He just met the man two seconds ago, yet suddenly it seemed vital that he hear Sheppard out. In a marginally more considerate voice, he continued, "Let's just cut to the chase and you tell me about this project that you want me to fund."

Rodney was listening. He was. Only the long line of John Sheppard, from his hair to the bare ankle peeking out from his pants leg, was unexpectedly fascinating. Maybe he needed that vacation worse than he'd imagined. He didn't used to be distracted by the pretty this easily. Maybe he needed…

Before he could finish that thought, Grodin stepped into the room. "I apologize for interrupting, Dr. McKay, but if you recall, you did specifically ask to be warned when Ms. Travle was on her way here."

"Oh god, what does she want now?" Rodney asked.

"I believe it's about the annual fundraiser. According to the secretarial rumor-mill, it seems she's in need of an escort for several upcoming events."

Rodney turned to face John. "This is your lucky day, Mr. Sheppard. You've convinced me. It's a quixotic idea of course, and I'll probably lose a bundle of money in the process, but I don't care. I'm feeling the sudden need for a long vacation and your cockamamie idea is going to get me out of this office. It's perfect."

"You. What?" John stopped, leaned back even further in the chair, and glared at Rodney. "You want to run that by me again?"

"I am going with you!" Rodney beamed. "Grodin, cancel all my appointments immediately for – how long do you think it would take to avoid -- never mind. Grodin, cancel them for a month, no, make it six weeks. If anyone wants to know where I am, tell them I'm on vacation."

Rodney leveled a glare in John's direction, "And you do not get to say no. You need financial backing and I need to get away from that leather spinster at Larrin Enterprises before any of that snake oil oozes onto me."

"Anything else, Dr. McKay?" asked Grodin.

"Yes. Make a reservation for two at the Submariner's Dive. I'm taking Mr. Sheppard out to dinner." Rodney rubbed his hands together in glee. "We might as well have an appropriate setting while I find out just how Sheppard here plans on spending my money."

~~~*~~~

John raised an eyebrow at the man sitting across from him at the table and wondered what he'd just gotten himself into. The restaurant didn't look at all like the type of place he'd have pictured McKay eating. The décor, what he could see of it in the dim light, looked like someone had taken the restaurant's name and run with it Seventies style.

Plastic crabs clung to odd pieces of netting tucked around the windowsills. Tiny ships-in-a-bottle decorated every table, and John was fairly sure that was a stuffed swordfish overhead. He wouldn't bet that someone hadn't shellacked it so that it reflected back what little light there was in the room. It was suspiciously gleamy for a dead fish.

"Ah, I know that look. I'll just say, 'book', 'cover'. You'll understand once you taste the food. I don't think Chef Parrish knows how to make anything that doesn't taste good." Rodney sighed happily. "What that man can do with baby salad greens and a cucumber is almost a sin."

John wasn't quite sure what to make of his new benefactor, either. Based on the weeks of rejection, he'd built up Dr. McKay as a hard-nosed businessman who could care less about the little guy. The only reason John kept coming back was because he didn't have anything better to do. He was now running full tilt into Rodney's enthusiasm and honesty, and nothing had prepared John for that.

He was used to being alone, used to watching the townspeople crossing the street to avoid him, and he'd gotten good at pretending he didn't care. He heard the whispered mutterings of 'crackpot' and he took in the frozen smiles of people as they humored him, pretending to be nice. He couldn't even honestly say they were wrong.

What he wasn't used to was being the subject of this unswerving focus. He could stop it now, and maybe he should. All he'd have to do is tell McKay about the singing he heard in his dreams. Only, if he did, he'd be giving up his best chance to solve this mystery and go back to living his life. It wasn't just that, though. The idea of seeing disdain fill Rodney McKay's eyes as he pulled away, like so many others, made John's stomach clench.

"You know, I don't usually have to work this hard to pull information out of people who want my money. In my experience, they're usually falling all over themselves trying to impress me. You've hardly said two words, Mr. Sheppard. Well, go on. Tell me about the project. You don't have to woo me; I've already told you I'm a sure thing."

 _A sure thing._ Rodney's words brought up images that made John shift awkwardly in his seat. He just hoped that Dr. McKay hadn't noticed. With a deep breath, he plunged into his plan.

"In 1997, NOAA recorded a very loud and unusual noise coming from deep in the Pacific Ocean. While they couldn't identify the cause, it's on record that the sound could be heard from over 3,000 miles away. They named it The Bloop. Perhaps you've heard of it? Dr. McKay, there are no known biologics large enough to make that kind of noise. Not even a blue whale.

"Something made that sound, so either we're looking at the hypothesis that something huge lives in the unexplored depths of the ocean, or it's something we haven't even begun to imagine."

"Okay, I'm intrigued now." Rodney waved an encouraging hand in John's direction. "Go on."

"I've been doing some research of my own. Put everything I had into it. Sold my house, auctioned off everything I could, and sank every penny I owned into this thing. I've finally pinpointed a location, but I can't go any further without help."

"And this is where I come in. I can get you everything you need, barring the Calypso." Rodney sighed. "Offered the Cousteaus a small mint for it once, but the family won't sell. There's just no accounting for sentimentality. Now then, where exactly are we going to go to find your giant whale?"

"Not a giant whale, Dr. McKay."

"Oh, for pity's sake, just call me Rodney. We're going to be spending a lot of time together aboard a small ship while you're playing around in the water. I think we can go by first names."

"I'm not pla…"

"You don't happen to have a pair of Speedos do you? Well, don't worry about it. I'll have Grodin put it on the list. Black or red? Never mind. I'll have him get both."

John stared. And people called him crazy. Mentally stuttering over the image of himself bent over a ship's railing in tiny Speedos in front of Rodney, John paused, unconsciously licking his lips before continuing.

"The Guardian Deep..."

"Well, at least that's original," Rodney interrupted. "I was sure you were going to say the Mariana Trench."

"You're not really good with people are you, McKay? I know I've got a few… issues, but at least I'm not insulting to people I've just met."

Rodney sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm horrible, but I give excellent head. And I'm paying for your own personal Waterworld. You might want to think about that."

John clenched his jaw. "Hey, you're the one inviting himself along on this -- this _vacation_. That wasn't my idea."

"Vacation." Rodney answered back. "In the South Pacific. Warm ocean breeze and hula girls. Do you think we can find some hula girls? Oh, or a luau, with roasted anything. Honestly, it will be worth the gallon of sunscreen I'll have to bring." Rodney waggled a finger in front of John's face. "Just don't get me started on George Carlin. He took my excellent skin care advice and turned it into a cheap, popular cliché."

John gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay calm and continue. "The Guardian Deep is in the Tongo Trench. The second deepest trench in the world…"

Rodney cut him off. "Yes, yes, got that. The Tongo's deepest point has an estimated depth of 10,880 meters -- that would be over six miles for the metrically challenged -- and by the way, since it's only been explored by sonar, well, right there you've got an error factor, give or take, of 100 meters. That far down, the pressure is roughly eight tons per square inch. And you want to explore it. I can't imagine why anyone would think that's not perfectly sane.

"There, now we've got that covered, when do you want to leave? How about tomorrow afternoon? Grodin can work miracles if I pay him enough. And I do."

John just stared, speechless. Rodney was looking at him with wide blue eyes and a ridiculously hopeful smile. John found himself nodding back in agreement, despite the suspicion he was way in over his head in some sort of bizarre McKay-Land.

~~~*~~~

John leaned over the railing, staring out over the calm blue sea. The light Pacific breeze drying his wet skin barely made a ripple over the water. They'd never get a more perfect day to launch the pod.

He had to hand it to Rodney; he knew how to do things in style. The boat was a sleek beauty with plenty of deck space so that he and Rodney weren't tripping over each other. Grodin had arranged it so that the boat and her crew were ready and waiting by the time John and Rodney landed at the Fuaamotu airport. Rodney hadn't had his Polynesian style luau yet, but John was sure they wouldn't be flying back to the States until he did.

Funny thing that. Now that John was almost in reach of his goal, something he'd thrown himself into for four years, he wasn't in any hurry to finish. Maybe Rodney's vacation mindset was luring him in, or maybe he just didn't want this -- whatever this was -- partnership with Rodney to end.

Rodney didn't judge him. He'd gone along with all of John's suggestions, throwing in a few of his own, never pushing John past his comfort level. Rodney teased and flirted with him with no hint of 'humor the crackpot' in his manner.

It hit him then. For the first time in ages, John was having _fun._

He heard the padding of bare feet then, coming up behind him. John had come to recognize that footstep anywhere. It was quick like the man's gestures and lighter than one would expect from someone who spent so much time behind a desk.

Rodney was a solid guy with broad shoulders that were usually hidden under a t-shirt. John had seen him just once without one. Rodney had been helping load supplies so that they could get underway as soon as possible. He'd worked up a sweat under the hot afternoon sun and had pulled his shirt off to wipe his face.

Watching the flex and pull of muscle shifting under fair, lush skin was almost enough to make a poet out of John, except he wasn't quite that crazy. It didn't stop him from daydreaming about it, though, a nice, safe, commitment-free daydream, one that couldn't hurt anybody.

John turned so he could face Rodney, leaned his elbows against the boat rails, and stretched his legs out in front of him. They'd been playing this harmless little flirting game from day one and John intended to win this round.

"Good swim?" Rodney asked. "What do you think? Is it time to open that crate of yours so I can see that mini-sub you're planning on going under with?" He held a black towel out to John. "Oops. Guessed wrong on the color you'd wear today."

"You're color coordinating me?"

"Yeah, yeah, so sue me. It was Peter's idea anyway. How was the swim? You look…" Rodney stared at John and decided on discretion. "Wet."

"I look wet. Damn, nothing gets by you." With a slow grin at McKay's pitiful attempt at not losing, John asked, "Why don't you come in with me next time and find out for yourself how great the water is? C'mon, Rodney, you can't spend all your time under the awning on deck or in the stateroom. You're on vacation, remember?"

Rodney looked longingly at the deep, clear, water. "Maybe. I didn't ask Peter to pack me any trunks so I don't even know what I'd wear."

"Your secretary's damned efficient from what I've observed. Why don't you check your luggage? If there's nothing there you can use, well..." John ran his fingertips down over his naked belly and hooked a thumb into the low line of fabric clinging to his hips. "I know where there's another pair of these."

John would never get tired of seeing the honest appreciation in Rodney's eyes. He'd worn the red Speedos today on purpose. It was just too much fun watching Rodney try and fail to bring his gaze all the way up to John's face while he was talking to him.

When Rodney fell silent, his eyes making it up as far as nipple height, John prompted him. "You were asking about the sub?"

"Um. Yes. That's right. The, ah… I'm sorry. What?"

John grinned, happy to have an excuse to clap a hand on Rodney's shoulder. He let the sweet warmth of it sink into his palm for a minute before asking, "How about we do lunch? You went to all that effort to bring Chef Parrish on board; we should take advantage of it."

"Yes! No. Because we'll eat lobster and drink wine and you'll look all sleepy-eyed and bendable, and then I'll have try to sleep tonight and it will be impossible because, god, you're like some temptation my mother should have warned me about." Rodney sighed. "Can we just look at the sub now, please? Before I say something else to embarrass myself?"

John couldn't stop his laugh from bubbling up. Wow, so that's what joy felt like. Cool.

"Yeah, okay. We'll open it up. Just let me put some shorts on first. And Rodney, no peeking before I get back."

~~~*~~~

John pried the last board off the crate. There lay his dive pod in all its glory. He glanced at Rodney, surprised that he hadn't erupted in opinions already. Instead, Rodney was circling it slowly, concentrating on it as if he could make it give up answers with his brain.

"I've seen a lot of cutting edge tech in my field. Stuff you wouldn't believe even if I could tell you, but I've never seen anything like this. John, where did you get it?"

Where did he get it, indeed? That really was the question, wasn't it? John stared at the pod and wondered how in hell he was going to explain it and still sound rational.

"It kind of followed me home." John winced. Way to sound rational.

He'd been digging for clams. Oh, not seriously, not like some of the men and women who did it for a living. John just wanted a few steamers for dinner and the flat sands at low tide made for easy pickings. He'd gone later than he should have and the tide had started rolling in. This thing had rolled in with it. Egg shaped, it was the color of wet sand shot with through with angled streaks of silver. It lay dormant, pushed up on the beach by the tides until John touched it. A gold tinged field of energy rippled over it and John pulled his hand away, astonished.

Maybe it was an exaggeration to say it followed him home, but everything about the pod held a happy hum of welcome he could feel bone deep, even if he couldn't explain it. So, he'd thrown a rope over it and pulled it home with his old rowboat. It had floated merrily along behind the boat, completely unaffected by the tug and drag of the rising tide. John wished he could've said the same. It had taken days for the raw blisters on his hands to heal. Still, he'd gotten it home safely and hidden it away in the tiny inlet by his house.

Since then, he'd developed a certain sympathy for the guy in _Field of Dreams_. Damn, if that hadn't been a lesson he'd learned the hard way. People seriously didn't want to know that you heard voices. Which, John supposed, if he hadn't been so occupied with trying to interpret the language from his dreams, he'd have realized it a lot sooner.

In the end, John had been driven to find financial backing so that he could get some answers. McKay-Jackson Enterprises wasn't his first choice, but it had the advantage of being near family that he could stay with, and a reputation for supporting the unusual.  
After meeting McKay, John came to the conclusion that it had to be the Jackson half of the corporation that handled the more esoteric ventures.

Still, McKay had backed him without question. It had been a relief when Rodney hadn't blinked an eye at John's request to be flown back to the east coast so that he could crate up his supplies. He kind of loved him for that. A lot.

"Earth to John. You were going to say something and then you just drifted off into your own little world. Look, if you don't want to explain it now, that's fine; you can tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours later." Rodney gave John a speculative look. "Hmm. This looks like one of those stories told best over bottle of whiskey."

Throat dry, John answered, "Yeah. We'll do that."

Suddenly, John couldn't bear the scrutiny and moved forward. "Here, let me show you." He reached out and touched the small submersible. It did its glowy thing and then, silently, the side of it slid open revealing the interior.

John almost laughed out loud when Rodney took just enough time to utter, "Oh, my god." before he climbed in and started going over every inch.

"Sheppard, you sneaky bastard, you've been holding out on me."

"What was that, Rodney?"

"I said, being seriously hot doesn't excuse you from not telling me about this sooner. Do you even know what this is? Of course, you don't. It has to be alien technology. The good stuff. Ha! I knew it was an incredibly brilliant decision to see you instead of passing you off onto Daniel Jackson."

"Oh, really?" John raised an eyebrow. "Somehow, that's not the impression I got."

"Oh, don't be in a huff. I was always going to see you eventually. It was hardly my fault Daniel ran off to play with the Air Force boys. Of course, it's his loss. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I tell him I got to play with the cool toys while he was stuck under a mountain."

"Gloating just a little there, McKay?"

"Of course not. That would be…" Rodney looked up at John and grinned. "Okay, maybe just a little gloating. Now, get over here and tell me what powers… oh, good. Is that? Of course it is. Here, come open this for me. John, how much can you tell me about it? Oh, never mind. Got it. This is some sort of crystal drive, isn't it? How many hours of dive time have you had in it? I suppose we can go over that later. I have some tests I want to run anyway before we plunge into the unexplored depths and look like human sushi for your giant whale."

John groaned. "Not, a giant whale, McKay, I keep telling you that." The temptation to smack Rodney upside the head was derailed by bafflement. Every time John had opened the dive pod before, it only had one seat. John looked again, just to make sure. Yep. It was two-seater, all right. Comfy enough to nap in, and designed so that they could swivel 360 degrees. John shrugged. If the alien pod was happy with two seats, John wasn't going to argue. He'd just add it to his growing SSINTA list: Strange Shit I'm Never Talking About.

Still, he couldn't wait until Rodney discovered how the entire pod could be turned transparent. They'd be able to see everything from any angle. He bounced back on his heels with a grin and, at that same moment, Rodney looked up at him with a huge smile on his face. They were immediately on the same page and they both knew it. They had one big ocean all around them, and the coolest water toy ever designed to play in it with.

This was gonna be awesome.

~~~*~~~

Rodney McKay was such a pain in the ass. That was John's conclusion and he was sticking to it. Mostly. Except, Rodney did look kind of adorable when he was all puzzled and huffy at the same time. The alien dive pod alternately fascinated McKay and drove him nuts trying to figure it out. To be fair, John figured since Rodney wasn't hearing it talk to him, like John did, he had a leg up on the nuts department.

Still, it had taken one whole night over steak and ale, and some furious hand waving just to decide on a name for the little sub. John gave the _Arroyo_ a friendly nudge. It was sitting on the hydraulic diving platform, finally deemed 'not likely to implode our brains in a horrendous death' by Rodney. McKay had run it through every test he could think of including pressure, maneuverability, and life support. John had just loved the speed of the thing. It practically flew through the water.

~~~*~~~

"C'mon, Rodney, you know the pod's ready to dive; stop dragging your heels and admit it." John swam closer to Rodney. "You can admit I was right about the swimming, too."

It had taken John a little more cajoling, but he'd finally gotten Rodney to join him in the water. Peter had packed swimming trunks, not Speedos for Rodney, but the wet cotton clung in ways that made John wish he'd gotten Rodney into the water a lot sooner.

"All right. Fine. You're right on all counts." Then Rodney grinned, giving John just enough warning to duck beneath the surface before Rodney could hit him with a huge splash of water.

John swam underneath Rodney and reached to grab his heel in a teasing tug. It wasn't meant to be suggestive but Rodney moved in the water and John found his hand sliding up over the bare skin of Rodney's calf instead. It couldn't have been more than seconds, but suddenly John had to break the surface for air to breathe.

"We should, uh…" Rodney made a vague wave towards the boat. "It must be lunchtime or something."

"Yeah. Go ahead; I'll be right behind you." He watched as Rodney climbed up the chrome ladder; the wet trunks clung to the curve of his ass and the soft shape of his balls.

John hesitated. When he got out of the water, they'd be no hiding the fact from interested eyes that Rodney had won this round.

~~~*~~~

John checked to see that the door to the dive pod was sealed and glanced over at Rodney. He was nervously fiddling with his seat harness.

"You don't have to come, McKay. This was my idea. It's my risk to take, not yours."

"I'm coming. I might not be able to pilot this thing, but I can still read the instrumentation better than you can. Besides, I'm not entirely convinced you can find your way back on your own."

John looked at the firm line of Rodney's jaw and nodded. "Okay, then. Signal the crew to lower the dive platform and we'll take this baby for a spin."

Once they were fully submerged, John started the engines and directed to sub into an easy ten degree down angle.

"Turn us twenty degrees to starboard, John."

"Starboard. Gotcha."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "John, your other starboard."

John grinned over at him and bumped one knee against his. "Guess it's a good thing you came along, Rodney."

"We're almost out of the sunlight zone. John, can you increase the range of the exterior lights?"

"She's already compensating Rodney." John gave the _Arroyo's_ dash an affectionate pat. "How are the shields doing?"

"We're green across the board, which is good. Well, just as long as green in alien tech means the same thing as it does for earth tech. If it doesn't, we're already in so much trouble, we're dead men diving."

"Yeah, but you have to admit, McKay, what a way to go. How are we doing on time?"

"If I'm right, and you know how likely that is, we're about to enter the midnight zone. We should be seeing some very unusual specimens of sea life."

Rodney hadn't been kidding. It was ten kinds of creepy to see the strange, colorful creatures swimming up to them and staring at John through the transparent bubble of the _Arroyo._ Some of them looked like they were made of fangs and all of them seemed equipped with their own running lights.

"Bioluminescence." Rodney offered in explanation.

John turned to look at him. Pale streaks of aqua and gold from the interior lights of the _Arroyo_ illuminated Rodney's face. His hands moved over the controls with a light touch, carefully taking in data without disturbing any of the settings. John held his breath, caught in the joyful beam of Rodney's smile. A funny little curl of _Yes, I want that_ settled in John's gut. Damn, why couldn't he have figured that out two nights ago?

He and Rodney had stayed up late that night, putting the plans into place for today's excursion. Rodney had been in full out geek mode with his power point and graphs. He'd looked at John's simple Yes/No columns with a raised eyebrow of scorn. John probably should have told him it was hard to take a man's derision seriously while he was sharing his peanut butter cups and sporting a milk mustache.

The night had worn on, John's shy teasing turning into manly giggles and snorts of laughter as the wonder of what they were going to attempt soared from the impossible to "oh, my god, we are really doing this" territory. Rodney, no less drunk on the possibilities ahead of them, swerved his focus onto John. His hopeful, "I really want to kiss you right now," had gone straight to John's head. He'd leaned in close, for the moment wanting it just as badly as Rodney did.

Then the panic hit.

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know." John's words tumbled out of him in an uncontrolled spin. "I'm not that guy. I don't. I haven't. Not in a long time. I thought I could but that's not how…. Look, I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just way in over my head here."

"In over your head? You think I'm not? John, do you have any idea what you do to me? Ever since we started this crazy venture, I haven't been able to decide if I want to throw you overboard or propose marriage." Rodney took a deep breath. "Okay. This is what we are going to do. We're going to pretend I never said that. You are going to tell me everything you know about the _Arroyo_ and her dive capabilities, and I am going to chart the coordinates to the Guardian Deep. Agreed?"

John winced at the memory. The hurt in Rodney's voice stayed with him even though McKay had handled the rest of the evening with surprising grace. Since then, he'd kept the focus on work and never mentioned wanting to kiss John again. It was starting to piss John off.

Not only that, McKay had mentioned marriage. That was as good as a proposal, wasn't it? Did he think John was just going to sit back and let himself be two-timed while McKay made grass-skirt comments to the next native girl they ran into when they berthed at the Tonga port? Damn straight he wasn't. If Rodney wanted his hands under a grass skirt that bad, then John would wear a damned --. John stopped and ran that last sentence through his brain.

At that moment, he would have happily pounded his head against the wall of the little sub. Here he was, five miles below the surface of the ocean, in a fantastic machine that attracted some of the weirdest sea life that existed, and he was sitting here thinking about satisfying McKay's skirt fetish.

Forget crazy, Rodney McKay was driving him _insane_. "Arghhh."

Rodney turned to look at him. "John? Is something wrong?"

"No."

"That didn't sound like something 'not wrong' to me. Not to sound overly concerned at the possibility of imminent, messy death but are you sure the _Arroyo_ is not telling you something that's not showing up on the scanners?"

John took in Rodney wide-eyed concern and nodded back. "We're good." Damn, that was another thing about Rodney. He'd figured out John had some kind of mental connection to the pod. Instead of being freaked, he'd been annoyingly pissy and jealous, and that was the last reaction John had expected.

"Look!" Rodney pointed at a huge dome looming just ahead of them.

John had expected they'd find something big but the size of the thing was off the scale. If John had to make a wild guess, he'd have said it was the size of a large city. And it was, without a doubt, a city. The closer they got, the easier it was to make out the buildings and walkways. Waves of energy rippled across the surface of the dome in a steady dance of power.

Rodney gestured to the sight in front of them. "Oh, that is impressive, isn't it? It must be constantly adjusting to hold back the ocean just like the _Arroyo's_ shield. You've solved your mystery, John. There's no doubt that this is where your sound emanated from."

"Yeah," John answered. He pointed to the top of central spire where single light shone like a beacon. "Not just that, but it looks like someone left the porch light on for us."

The two of them just sat there, staring, as the little sub shifted itself into autopilot and headed straight for home.

"Are you doing that?"

John held up both hands to prove his innocence. "It's not me, Rodney. Relax; she knows where she's going."

Bowing to the inevitable, Rodney sat silently as their ride carried them safely through the dome's shield. The pod surfaced just within the city limits in an alien-made harbor, and slid easily into docking port obviously designed for her. The shallow bay held a long line of similar ports, and each one held some version of the _Arroyo_.

The pod's door, still on autopilot, slid open.

"Well," Rodney announced. "At least that answers the question of whether we should worry about breathable air."

By mutual agreement, they climbed out onto the pier and started walking in the direction of the tower.

"So," said Rodney, looking at John. "Not a giant whale after all. You could have said."

"I didn't know, Rodney. I swear. Still," John grinned at him, "A city under the ocean, not exactly chopped liver."

The lights started to come on all around them, as though their very presence was some kind of code key.

"Oh, my God," Rodney breathed, reverently. "John, do you know what this means?

In a voice equally hushed, John asked, "What does it mean?"

Rodney turned to him, eyes full of wonder. "I have no idea but, God, I love it!"

John didn't even try to resist the urge to kiss McKay. It was a sloppy and terrible kiss, what with both of them laughing and bumping noses, and it was the best kiss, the best kiss _ever,_ when Rodney curled his hand around the back of John's neck, holding him close and kissing him back like he needed it to breathe.

Drawing back, voice husky with promise, Rodney asked, "What happened to being out of your depth?"

John looked up at the alien city glowing all around them. He thought about the crushing miles of ocean sitting on top of them, and he thought about Rodney. Rodney who'd accepted John without reservation, who'd been there with him, every step of the way. He thought about the strong, solid line of Rodney's shoulders. John thought about a lot of things.

He leaned forward, and smiled softly into Rodney's hair.

"I think I can handle it."  


~~*~~


End file.
